The Apology
by Nytel
Summary: JohnTeyla. Post episode 411 fic. Spoilers up to and including 411. The title pretty much says it all.


**The Apology**

John hesitated in front of Teyla's room. He had his hand raised to wave over the door chime, but dropped it at the last second and turned on his heel. Two steps away he strengthened his resolve, and forced himself to turn back around. His feet felt like lead and his mind was going into overdrive thinking of a million things he could and should say, but none of them forming coherent thoughts. Worst of all was the gnawing sensation deep in his gut that had kept him up all night.

As a team leader he had every right to be mad at her, he knew that much. As a friend he had overreacted. But since he'd come to Atlantis the lines had blurred so much he wasn't even sure they existed any more. He could no longer separate the team leader from the person, and the cost of that might end up being too high if he didn't fix things right now.

But damn it, she should have told him. She'd had two months worth of time to find him, to talk to him in private, and it's not like his schedule was unpredictable. So why hadn't she?

He sighed and leaned against the wall, restraining from banging his head against it in frustration. Did it really matter? He'd seen the look on her face when she told him: the hesitation, and the underlying fear of how he might react. And hadn't he only solidified that fear, making it a reality?

John wished he were flexible enough to kick himself in the ass, because he was sure that was exactly what he deserved at the moment. Teyla didn't need anger from him right now, she needed support, and no matter how much it hurt to think of the situation, he was sure as hell going to be there for her.

Taking a deep breath John pushed himself away from the wall and swiped his hand over the sensor. He heard the chime from inside, and took another deep breath as he waited for her to answer. It wasn't long until he heard the soft rhythm of sock clad feet on the floor, coming towards him. When the door swooshed open to reveal her, he knew instantly that he was the last person she'd been expecting to see.

"John," she said, so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Mind if I come in?"

She looked him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. He stuck both hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

"No," she finally answered, stepping to the side to he could enter.

He paused just inside the entrance, not wanting to intrude any further. Teyla stepped away from the door, and placed herself a few feet in front of him, in direct view. Distantly he heard the door close behind them, but he was too busy taking in her appearance. How had he not noticed? He wasn't even referring solely to the blossoming baby bump, which he could see quite clearly now that she was not wearing her jacket. It was also the lines of worry marking her face. The gnawing within his stomach intensified, somehow also loosening his tongue.

"I came to apologize," he began, finding the words only slightly easier to say than he'd been anticipating.

"No, John," she said quickly. "It is I who should be apologizing. I should not have—"

He knew exactly where she was going with this, and he cut her off. "No, you shouldn't have. You should have told me as soon as you found out. But it's done, Teyla. There's no use worrying over it now." He sighed. This wasn't exactly going as smoothly as he hoped, but maybe he could salvage things. "I'm not fault free either. I shouldn't have gone off on you the way I did. I'm sorry."

She nodded her head slightly, but that was all.

He'd been expecting something more, for her to at least say _something_ in response. Frustration built up again. He found himself clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly inside his jacket pockets. He couldn't take it. He needed to know. "Why?" He asked, almost harshly, his voice loud in the small room. "Why didn't you come to me? I could have…"

"You could have done nothing." Her voice was harsh, sharply painful in his ears.

"I could have been there," he stated adamantly.

Her dark eyes flicked upward to meet his. "This is something I must deal with."

John pulled his hands from his pockets and ran them through his hair, trying to hold in his anger. "But you don't have to do it alone. I'm your friend, Teyla. I thought you knew you could trust me."

Any lingering anger on her part faded away instantly, replaced by something akin to a mixture of regret and uncertainty. "I do…" There was little conviction in her voice. "But this is different, John. It is…"

"It's not," he said unwaveringly, desperate to make her understand. "You can always trust me, always talk to me." He thought he might have seen a tear form in her eye, but she blinked and if it had been there, it was whisked away.

"Look," he continued on softly. "I know I didn't exactly prove that to you yesterday, and I'm sorry, more than you'll ever know." This time he knew he saw a tear, and knew he needed to make her understand.

"I was just so damn worried," he finally admitted, his voice meek, but it was the truth. "If something were to happen to you… I mean, ever, but especially now…" He gulped, unable to finish.

She caught his eye and nodded once, sharply, telling him she understood. He let out a sigh of relief, but then saw the tears were still tears in her eyes. One had already escaped and was halfway down her cheek. A surge of guilt so strong hit him that he almost felt its effects physically.

"Hey," he said tenderly, placing his hands on her shoulders lightly. "It's going to be okay."

She nodded again, but it only served to cause another tear to begin its descent. He was at a loss of what to do until she stepped forward and wrapped her hands around his waist. His arms automatically secured her in against his body. She turned her head in towards his neck and he rested his chin comfortably atop her head. When he felt the tears begin to dampen his shirt, he held her a little closer and began rubbing his thumb along the top of her shoulder. He wasn't really sure that he was doing the correct thing, but it felt right, so he didn't stop.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated, whispering the words of comfort into her hair.

He felt her nod against his chest and he tightened his grip just a little more, prepared to hold her as she released whatever emotions she had bottled up. He'd meant what he said; he could be there for her, and there was nothing that would stop him from starting now.

The End


End file.
